I Won't Fear Love
by Grlufear
Summary: Briseis and Achilles meet in the palace during the Greek raid. They eventually set off for Greece together and try to create a life together.
1. Prolouge

Disclaimer: I of course do not own these characters.  
  
Author's Note: So this is probably not very good, but it has been knocking around in my skull for a while now and I had to get it out. I'm looking for a beta reader who can help me out with this.  
  
Filthy. Covered in the blood of her fallen countrymen, that is how she first meets him. Standing at the prow of this ship she must wonder if perhaps the winds that push them back to Greece will sweep away this memory. If that is what she truly wishes.  
  
She wonders how many Greek women can say they once held a knife to their lover's throat. Lover not husband. She hid below deck that first day at sea, afraid to face Apollo's eye, a priestess defiled. Still, Achilles assures her they will be wed once they have reached Greece, once they have returned to the land of his mother. He laughs when she asks him in darkness in the bed they share, if his mother is a goddess as they say.  
  
She does not think it a silly question. After all she has seen the things he can do with a sword. Saw his group of fifty men storm the beaches of her homeland and claim victory, heard his voice callously order the destruction of a god's temple. Strange to think the hands that stroke her so tenderly can kill so effectively. She remembers the smell of her tormentor's flesh as Achilles drove the branding iron into his neck, for her.  
  
She is one woman on a ship of dozens of hardened soldiers. She is a princess of Troy, was a priestess of Apollo, and she has never been taught to handle a weapon. Yet she does not fear these men. They stay far from her, if not for respect of her person, for fear of Achilles blade. Briseis is a woman used to being feared; because she was a princess, a priestess, and now because she has given her heart to man with too much blood on his hands.  
  
She wonders at the life towards which she is rushing. Wonders if being held in this man's arms will be enough to help her forget the homeland she is leaving behind, the land she is betraying. She wonders if Achilles will ever be truly happy with her, just her and none of the glory she knows he hungers for.  
  



	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with the actual people who own Troy.  
  
Author's Note: Thanks to Ellornel who agreed to beta this and thus making it much better than it would have been.  
  
Briseis is a princess of Troy. She has never had to run for her life. Tonight as Troy burns she finds herself fleeing for the second time in under a month.  
  
Her blood flows cold in her veins and her heart threatens to explode from her chest as she scrambles through passageways filled with her countrymen trying to escape the Greeks. Troy, the city that had withstood countless enemies is fallen and she still doesn't understand how.  
  
But now is not the time for these wonderings. Smoke is thick in her lungs, burning every time she gasps for breath. Briseis is tired and can't help but think that perhaps she should quiet herself, hide somewhere she won't be discovered.  
  
"Paris! Paris!" The screams tear from her throat unbidden. As a child, Briseis had always looked upon Paris as a protector who would use all of his influence to keep her happy and repay any offence given to her. The older Hector then dealt with anything Paris could not handle. Her eyes swim with tears for a moment as she remembers there is no Hector to save her now. Still, calling for Paris is like a reflex, one she could not repress even if she wished it.  
  
The corridors that once seemed so comforting, have now transformed into a twisted labyrinth meant to keep her from her kinsmen. Briseis runs. She runs and calls for her cousin and slowly begins to lose hope that she will find him.  
  
At the end of the hall through which she passes appears a gleaming white horse. Briseis stops short, struck by the absurdity of it all. The Trojan palace is burning and a horse runs brazenly through its halls. For a moment she imagines the scolding some poor stable boy will receive about this, but then remembers that an escaped horse is the least of any Trojan's worries now.  
  
The thundering of hooves breaks Briseis from her mind's meanderings and she freezes. The horse, having somehow grown impossibly large in the time her mind was otherwise occupied, is bearing down upon her. To think- she will perish in these halls, trampled by a horse.  
  
Arms wrap quickly about her waist. Briseis attempts to gasp but air is knocked from her lungs as she is flung from the horse's path. She can tell from the hard muscles of the body underneath her that her savior is a soldier. Briseis cannot catch her breath and she darts a look to her rescuer's face but does not dare to hope.  
  
Blue eyes stare in to hers, eyes that she thought never to see again. Her eyes dart over his face and body, finally landing on his lips that are moving. Those very lips had touched her in the most intimate of ways, made her yearn for the chance to break her promises to the gods. It occurs to her that perhaps she should listen to the words coming from them.  
  
"...nothing to fear, everything is all right now Briseis." Achilles' face has always been a mask to her. Tonight it is open and she can easily read the relief at finding her upon it.  
  
She had wanted that so badly. Here, away from him, while she was supposed to be mourning her cousin she had wanted it. Wanted some assurance that their time together had meant something to him. A part of Briseis wants badly to deny it all, but she knows it is useless.  
  
Briseis laughs nervously then, a sound devoid of humor somewhere between a sob and hysteria. "All right? Don't you see?" She pushes against Achilles' hold upon her and moves away from him. Looking down at her hands she continues, "I am in love with you." Briseis looks suddenly into his eyes, pain shining in hers. "You who are the murderer of my kinsmen, you who has led destruction to my home's doorstep. Yet, I swear by Apollo's burning light, I still love you. I could not stop even if I wished it."  
  
Achilles' face closes itself to her. Once again he is the hardened man who she cannot read. It is as if, she thinks, he is guarding himself from something. In another time and place, she muses, she would find it laughable that this great Greek warrior would need to defend himself against a temple priestess.  
  
"And do you wish it?" He asks her in a voice that reveals little. "Or will you come with me? Murder and destroyer though I may be?" He extends his hand to her.  
  
Briseis looks upon his hand covered in a light sheen of sweat and possibly blood. This hand that a few simple days ago was covered in the blood of Hector. This hand that a lifetime ago caressed her so gently.  
  
Looking into his eyes she takes his hand, "Yes. I will follow you to the lands of Hades himself if need be."  
  
And for a second the relief she saw earlier is on Achilles' face once again. He turns his face away quickly, however, eyes searching the hall.  
  
"We should leave this place."  
  
With his words Briseis is jolted. For a few moments their love and her loyalty were her most pressing concern, but now she has been transported back to this horrifying reality. Quickly she turns and scans the halls as well.  
  
Briseis starts forward pulling Achilles along with her by the hand, "This way. Come. I know the secret passageways within the temple." She is surprised that he actually follows. The small grunt he lets out while moving makes her think that perhaps he is too.  
  
It is as if in this short time since she has found him, she has become more centered. She recognizes the hallways they fly through, their steps taking them faster and faster towards the temple she once found so much solace in.  
  
When they reach the entrance to the temple, Briseis stops. She can hear her uncle's voice cursing the Greeks and the defiling of Apollo's temple. Her eyes search quickly through unfamiliar faces until she spots him. But behind Priam lurks the Greek king, Agamemnon.  
  
"Uncle!" She screams hoping that this warning will be sufficient. It is not. She sees Agamemnon thrust his sword into her Priam's defenseless back. Without hesitation Briseis shoots across the room pulling out the dagger she picked up in the royal quarters when she had begun her search for Paris.  
  
The dagger in her hand and the distance to her destination does not strike Briseis. She is intent only upon Agamemnon; on somehow ending the pain he is causing her beloved uncle.  
  
Swiftly Briseis is beside Priam and Agamemnon blindly thrusting her blade. It is the slippery warm feeling of Agamemnon's blood upon her blade that snaps Briseis from her shock. Then Agamemnon is pushing her away and she tumbles to the floor as he staggers and falls.  
  
Arms wrap themselves around her, lifting her from the floor and she distantly hears Achilles' voice telling her to hurry. But her feet feel like blocks of lead and she knows that she is dragging behind. In a daze she turns her head and looks upon her uncle. She has killed a man for him. Yet, Briseis believes, she is no better than the monster that has done this to him.  
  
A breeze of fresh air dances across her face, but Briseis barely notices. 


End file.
